shadowblind
by Wondershot
Summary: Bakura isn't sure how much he can trust this guy, but he doesn't have any better options for getting out of here.


**A/N:** Shout-out to my friend and beta for giving this a readthrough and helping me with the title.

* * *

"They're escaping!"

"Move, move, _move!_ " Marik grabbed Bakura's wrist as a group of security guards rounded the corner, yanking him along at a breakneck pace as the guards gave chase.

"Are you sure about this?" Bakura demanded breathlessly. The corridors that Marik was choosing were only getting darker and narrower, and it felt like they were just boxing themselves in.

"Less talking, more running," Marik snapped back, pulling them into a side hallway and slamming bodily into the emergency exit at the end. When it didn't move, Marik threw himself at it again. "Shit! Someone must have locked it. We don't have _time–_ "

"Out of the way," Bakura found himself ordering, shoving Marik aside. Darkness flickered around his hands, and the shadows surged forward to blast the door off its hinges. The sound of running footsteps and shouting caused him to whip around and send a lash of shadows towards the group of guards who had appeared at the end of the hall, even as Marik pulled him out the open doorway and into an alley.

Bakura could only follow Marik's lead as the other man ran headlong through the back streets, splashing through puddles and trying not to trip over scattered detritus. As they skidded around a corner, the blond's eyes lit up at the sight of a pickup truck parked on the side of the road, a ponytailed man sitting in the driver's seat. "That's our ride!" Sprinting over to the back of the vehicle, Marik lifted the tarp covering the cargo area. "Get in!"

Too winded to ask questions, Bakura hauled himself up into the truck bed, collapsing onto a patch of empty floor. Marik was quick to clamber in after him, thumping the side of the truck and yelling towards the front, "Rishid, go!" before dropping to the floor himself and drawing the tarp over the back of the bed. The truck roared to life beneath them, and they were off.

Bakura lay on his back, staring unseeingly at the ventilated tarp above their heads and panting. "So, that was pretty impressive," came Marik's voice out of the darkness. "Didn't know you picked up that much already."

Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, Bakura was becoming conscious of how he felt like he'd rattled loose in his own head and his own skin, bumping up against a layer of tiny pinpricks and seeping chill. "Neither did I."

"Have you been Bleeding?" A note of alarm shot through Marik's voice, and Bakura imagined that he'd be sitting up to stare holes through him if he'd had the room.

"Not at all," Bakura lied through his teeth, ignoring the thief's cackling in the back of his mind.

"Remember, if you start seeing or hearing things that aren't there, you have to tell me _immediately_ ," the other stressed.

"Uh-huh, got it. So, mind filling me in on the plan?" Bakura asked, trying to change the subject.

Marik sighed. "The reason Industrial Illusions was forcing you to relive your ancestor's memories through the Animus is because they're looking for the artifact you saw in that last memory. I think you can already tell it's more dangerous than some average ugly trinket."

Bakura was still having trouble adjusting to the idea of "genetic memories" being a thing, but with the events of the last few... weeks? Months? He'd actually lost track of how long he'd been held in those two tiny rooms, spending his days lying in a virtual reality machine and re-experiencing ancient Egypt. But there was no way he'd ever be able to forget the sinister golden ring that his ancestor had claimed in the last memory he'd viewed, the five wicked spikes hanging from the edges swinging in the thrall of an unseen force as the eye engraved on the center triangle gleamed with unearthly intelligence. "Yeah."

"My family is sworn to protect the Millennium Items, so we can't let them fall into Industrial Illusions' hands." An odd note threaded through Marik's voice at that, but it vanished before Bakura could pin down the emotions running through his words. "We were actually trying to break you out sooner, before you got to that memory."

"Okay, so that didn't work out. What's the plan now?"

Silence, broken only by the thumps of the truck's wheels on asphalt. Finally, Marik said guiltily, "We're taking you to a safe house. We need you to go back and find out where the Millennium Ring ended up."

"Go back– wait, back into the Animus? Are you kidding me?!"

"Look, Industrial Illusions already has confirmation on the Ring after seeing your memory," retorted Marik. "Now that they have that lead, they're going to be searching for the Ring, and we need to beat them there. By using your ancestor's memories, we can find out where he hid it and get it before they do."

"I don't believe this," breathed Bakura. "You're exactly the same as they are!"

Marik let out a harsh bark of laughter. "Maybe so, but at least _we_ actually have an interest in keeping you alive and sane. Or if you'd prefer, I can tell Rishid to turn us around and drop you right back off on Industrial Illusions' doorstep."

Bakura scowled, turning over to face away from Marik. After being abducted to an unfamiliar city and spending so long isolated in the labs, there was no way Bakura would be able to keep out of Industrial Illusions' clutches on his own, and they both knew it. A sullen silence descended over the cargo area.

The truck sped away into the night.

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 **A/N:** This plotbunny basically asked "what if the Millennium Items were Pieces of Eden?" and wouldn't leave me alone after that.

Thanks for reading!


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